


Birdman of Bed-Stuy

by FadedSepia



Series: Sep's 2020 Commission Run [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Pigeons, Stir-Crazy, Text Conversation, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedSepia/pseuds/FadedSepia
Summary: Natasha and Tony chat about the fact Clint ismaybenot handling the quarantine as well as he could be.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Sep's 2020 Commission Run [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693291
Comments: 18
Kudos: 56





	Birdman of Bed-Stuy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RandomYarning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomYarning/gifts).



> For RandomYarning. Hope you like it, and thanks for the cuppa!

_Slide. Fwip! Skitter-y skitter-y skitter!_

_Flappa-flappa-flap!_

Clint sat on the other side of the window, summoning another cluster of new _friends._

 _Great…_ Natasha rolled her eyes, flopping over onto her stomach on the sofa as she pulled out her phone.

 _ **Sable Spy-der**_  
[ _Murder is justifiable now, right?_ ]  
[ _As long as I stay inside this apartment?_ ]

She flicked her eyes to the man on the fire-escape balcony, wondering when – exactly – Clint Barton had lost his last tether on sanity.

_Flutter-flutter, c-hoo-ooo-oooooo!_

Natasha was watching her own disintegrate in real time amid a flurry of flapping wings and rolling coos.

Her phone beeped in her hand; at least she had someone sane- _ish_ to keep talking to.

 _ **Quaren-Tony**_  
[ _If you kill him, it screws up the numbers for game night._ ]

 _ **Sable Spy-der**_  
[ _Fair._ ]  
[ _You can throw on a suit and fly by? I’m bored and Clint has lost his mind._ ]

 _ **Quaren-Tony**_  
[ _Yes, fantastic idea, Agent Romanov._ ]  
[ _Ask the hypochondriac (I’ll admit it) with the OPEN PORT IN HIS CHEST to leave the safety of his hermetically sealed office._ ]  
[ _Brilliant. Surprised I never thought of that._ ]

Natasha’s brow furrowed as she turned to lay on her back; phone held over her head, thumbs racing.

 _ **Sable Spy-der**_  
[ _What do you mean office?_ ]  
[ _Also, yes, terrible idea, stay inside._ ]  
[ _Wait, does that mean you can’t go home?_ ]

The typing dots blinked a few times, but she got no answer. Tony had probably gotten sidetracked with something for work. SI’s manufacturing was primarily automated; she’d no idea what, but Natasha was sure it had been converted to making _something_ to help. Probably coveralls or safety suits. Tony _did_ have a knack for suits, after all.

 _ **Quaren-Tony**_  
[ _No point. Steve’s immune to everything, but you know he wouldn’t risk bringing it in._ ]  
[ _I’d rather sleep in the desk chair._ ]

She believed it. Much as they might try to project images of themselves and independent badasses, Natasha and Tony both faired poorly when _actually_ alone. She, at least, could spend his non-crazy-person time with Clint, or wave across the hallway to their neighbours; everyone at Stark Industries had been sent home on indefinite paid leave. That left Tony with no one but the bots to keep him company. Now she felt worse; being bored was bad enough, Natasha hadn’t needed to feel guilty for her somewhat better circumstances on top of that.

 _ **Sable Spy-der**_  
[ _birdman_of_bed-stuy.jpg_ ]  
[ _Just think. You could be here for all of THIS._ ]  
[ _:)))_ ]

 _ **Quaren-Tony**_  
…  
…  
…  
[ _I was NOT prepared._ ]

 _ **Sable Spy-der**_  
[ _The WORLD was not prepared._ ]

 _ **Quaren-Tony**_  
[ _Does that one have a little hammer?_ ]

 _ **Sable Spy-der**_  
[ _Wait until you see the outfits he made for you two._ ]

Natasha dragged herself from the couch and over to the window, fighting a rather unflattering snort as she lined up the shot. She added Rogers into the conversation and slammed the _send_ button; Steve deserved to see it, too.

Still, it was a long while before she got a reply, though – Natasha could absolutely admit it – it was worth the wait.

 _ **America’s Ass(hole)**_  
[ _I can handle the can-lid shield, but will somebody please tell me why that pigeon is both dressed like me AND in a wedding veil?_ ]  
[ _Or HOW?!_ ]

**Author's Note:**

> Find [me over here on tumblr and send me a poke,](https://fadedsepiascribbles.tumblr.com) or [over here on twitter!](https://twitter.com/fadedsepia)


End file.
